This is long, ill-informed, brain-spraying. I’m putting it here because y’all know me.
Terry Gresham and I are reading a book called Santa Evita, about “Evita,” the mummified corpse and all the trouble it caused. It’s pretty great. I think we have to take another road trip to get back to it.
It’s a lot about the way our whole world is just made up of stories. She was a living piece of art, in a way, because she was subject to interpretation, and then when she died she was turned into the literal embodiment of a bunch of conflicting ideas. All of the stories of what she was were told by other people–she was a whore or she was a saint. I haven’t done any research. I just saw this play a couple times when I was a kid, and Terry read me part of a…
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